and maybe it's true, that i can't live without you
by singsongsung
Summary: NS. A pre-boarding school interlude. "It's enough."


**A/N: **This takes place in book!verse, sort of as an interlude between the last chapter and the epilogue of the prequel, though you probably don't need to know what I'm talking about to understand this. Reviews are love.

**(and maybe it's true, that i can't live without you)**

(&)**  
**

There is a two-week window, from the time she leaves Manhattan to the day she's supposed to officially leave, for Hanover.

It's the last two weeks of summer, the last two weeks of home – but Serena spends the entire time in Ridgefield, and she spends nearly every moment of the first three days in her bed, under the blankets.

She thinks maybe her heart's broken.

(&)

On the fourth day, when the sunlight is so strong that it leaks through the heavy curtains of her room, her brother barges in – _without knocking_ – and flops down on the foot of her bed.

She stays where she is, with her face pressed into her pillow.

He hits her leg lightly. "C'mon, up and at 'em. Let's swim."

Serena tugs the covers over her head, mumbles, "No."

Her brother heaves an overly dramatic sigh. "You're being a bore, sis."

"Whatever," she says. She doesn't move an inch.

(&)

The fifth day, he comes into her room around noon, where she's lying under a single sheet. It's way too hot today, too hot for her to do anything more than stay right where she is and listen to all the saddest songs on her iPod.

"Go away," she murmurs as soon as he walks in.

He ignores her (she didn't expect anything less) and sits down at the edge of her bed again, patiently waits for her to say something. She pouts at him and turns up her music.

After a few minutes, he moves to lie down next to her. His eyes are rimmed with hangover-red, but she sees genuine concern in them, the same bright blue as her own.

"Stop," he says, tugging on her earphones. "Come downstairs." He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "I'll make you a drink."

She traces meaningless patterns onto her mattress with her index finger. "I don't want a drink," she tells him, a bit petulantly. She wants all the things that make her feel like she's been torn into a million pieces to be erased – and at the same time, she's not willing to give any of them up. She wants to go back, but she doesn't know what exact point she wants to revisit.

Erik reaches out, pushes her tangled blonde hair off of her face. "What's going on?"

She rolls over, turns her back to him and looks at the wall. "It doesn't matter anymore."

(&)

On day six, he stares her down.

"You know you're being pathetic?"

She sticks her tongue out at him. "Yes."

He grins. "Serena, _come on_. You are way too young to be this fucking jaded. C'mon," he repeats, holding his hands out to her. "Let's have some fun before we have to go to boring ol' boarding school."

The mention of Hanover reminds her of everything that led to Hanover, of why she's going to Hanover, of all of it, and she suddenly wants to say no.

But her hands are already in his, and he yanks her to her feet, throws an arm around her neck and puts her in a headlock.

"Fucking _finally_," he teases her.

(&)

Like every other summer of her life spent in Connecticut, she follows Erik around and his friends don't seem to mind. They grin at her all the time, buy her liquor, score her weed, laugh even when the things she says aren't jokes. When she squeezes into their sports cars for trips to the beach, they always volunteer their laps for her to sit on. They pretend not to stare when she strips down to her bikini. They're fun.

One of them – his name is ridiculous, like Corky or something, so she just avoids using it at all costs – calls her _gorgeous_ every time he sees her and always greets her with a kiss on the cheek and an arm slung around her. She thinks maybe he gave her a gift for her birthday, a bracelet purchased on the way to the party, but it's still kinda cute.

She doesn't mind chilling with Erik's friends, watching them be silly and boyish, and she doesn't mind the way they pay her special attention, but – she can't help it, the way every single thing these boys do, she measures against another boy, the one she left behind in the city.

(She keeps a little ceramic boat, neatly painted and labeled _HMS Serena_ with a tiny red heart, in her beach bag.)

And when Corky takes her to the beach, she tugs her shirt up over her head and shakes out her hair alluringly, teases him about skinny-dipping; she thinks today might be the day to ask him what his _real_ name is –

– at least, that's what she thinks before they're play-fighting, joking around, and he flings her bag into the ocean.

(&)

It's lost. She can't find it and it's lost and she's waist-deep in water, still wearing her shorts over her bikini bottoms and it's _lost_, it's lost and she's soaked and she can't see it and she doesn't know if the salty taste on her lips is from the water or from her tears and she could _scream_, she could hit someone, she hates this guy, this guy whose name she doesn't even know –

"_Hey._" Erik throws his soft, lightweight sweater over her shoulders, pulls her into half a hug. "Hey, calm down, we'll find your stuff – "

"You can't." She shoves him away. She's a little drunk and he's a lot drunk and she hurts so much.

"Serena, it's _okay_…"

"It's not!" She yells it at him, right into his face. Their profiles match; sculpted cheekbones and aristocratic chins and eyes the same colour as the sky. She is almost as angry with him as she is with herself, in that moment. "It's all I took with me! All I had left of him!"

The air around them is suddenly very still, the crash of the waves suddenly inaudible.

Erik tilts his face, mirrors his movements to match hers, tries to look into her eyes. Mutedly, he asks, "Of who, Serena?"

She stares into the ocean, deep into the water, all the way down to her toenails painted in (almost) every colour of the rainbow. She sniffs, and she does not look at him.

He pieces it together in only a couple breaths. "…of Nate?"

She digs her toes into the sand, turns around and (like always) runs away.

(&)

Erik gives her space, doesn't come home until late, but when he walks into the house he heads straight for her room, punctures the darkness by flipping on the overhead light, and tugs at her ankles lightly, trying to get her out of bed.

She kicks upward; accidentally decks him in the chin.

"Jesus, Serena!"

She rolls over onto her back, props herself up on her elbows, and shoots him a remorseful look. Her tone, however, is venomous as she snaps, "Don't _do_ that then."

He rests his palms against the mattress, leans toward her. "You gotta tell me what happened…"

She just shrugs. It's not like she's going to say _I lost my virginity to the boy I love, the problem being that my best friend loves him too, and who am I to take that from her?_

Erik sits down, drums his fingers against her anklebone. "I know that it's a big deal," he says, carefully, scrutinizing her face. "But you're too young to get like this over a boy. You shouldn't be spending days in bed just because – "

"I love him," she cuts her brother off, feels oddly vulnerable and small and in need of someone to protect her. She trusts him with these words: "I think…I think I always have."

"I know. And I know that's got to feel like a…lot. But kid, you've got the rest of your life to be in love, you know. It's the end of summer and no matter how many times I tell my friends to shut up, they won't stop talking about you." He smiles at her coaxingly. "Just let yourself have some fun."

Out of nowhere, so very abruptly that it alarms them both, she starts to cry. She pulls her knees to her chest and presses her forehead against her perfectly tanned skin, admits brokenly, "I just really wanted him to love me back."

(&)

Erik comes through for her in a way she never really expected him to, even if he's been her knight in shining armour since they were kids. She's lying in bed (again) on the day he shoves Nate lightly through the doorway of her room and barks, "Door stays open," before throwing a wink her way and disappearing from sight.

Nate blinks at her, stoned as usual, and she pushes herself up from her nest of pillows to stare back at him.

"Natie?"

He grins at her, then, the smile that makes her heart skip beats. He shrugs one shoulder, says sheepishly, "Hey."

She bites back her smile, murmurs, "Hi." She's never been shy in front of him, not in her whole life, but it's a little different now – maybe because he's touched every part of her, maybe because she ran off the next morning.

"Can I…come in?"

Serena nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. She hugs a pillow, tells him wryly, "You can close the door, too."

Nate glances over his shoulder, a little wary, but then he kicks the door closed and pads across the room in his sock feet, comes to a stop at the foot of her bed and repeats, "Hey."

She smiles. It occurs to her to ask about logistics, about how he'd ended up here, about why he'd hasn't text messaged her or called her. But instead she pats her bed next to her, a wordless request for him to sit down.

He does, instantly climbing onto the bed, shaking the mattress enough to make her giggle. She's wearing a tank top and a pair of his boxers, striped white and red, from years ago, and when he sits next to her he slides his hand slowly over the material at her thigh.

She can't breathe as he asks her, his green eyes wide and glittering, "Why'd you leave?"

Leaning forward, she presses her face into his neck, breathes in the smoky smell of his cologne and pot, mixed together in a scent that is distinctly _Nate_. She sighs against him, slips her fingers in between his, a perfect fit.

"Why didn't you ask me to stay?" she whispers.

(&)

She twirls into the kitchen, plucks the glass from her brother's hands and takes a long drink. Making a face, she sets it down on the counter. "That's disgusting."

Erik grins, tugs at the loose braid she's wearing her hair in. "It's an acquired taste," he admits.

Serena takes a bottle of water out of the fridge, rests her elbows on the countertop. "You look nice," she observes, looking at his slacks and his button-down shirt.

"And you look happy."

She glances down, smirking at nothing. "Thank you for…whatever you did."

He shrugs carelessly. "It was freaking me the fuck out, not seeing you smile."

(&)

She cuddles with Nate that night, hooks her leg over his and rests her cheek against his chest, listens to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, links her fingers with his and feels him breathe.

(&)

They eat together in the kitchen's breakfast nook, two pieces of toast and a banana and a single, steaming cup of coffee between them.

She chews at her nails as she tells him quietly, "You have to pick."

Sunlight streams in through the window in patches, highlighting his skin. It almost hurts to look at him, especially when he reaches across the small table and starts tracing out patterns on her palm. "What d'you mean?"

"You can't…you can't love both me and Blair. If you pick her…" She breathes out slowly. "That's fine, but I want you to leave."

Nate narrows his eyes at her, but his fingers are still soft against her hand. "You picked for me. You left."

She tries to tug her hand from his. "You can go. If you want."

But he shakes his head, says, "I don't want to leave you." His hand drifts up to cup her elbow; he tugs her out of her chair and onto his lap, sinks that hand into her hair as he pulls her body against his.

Forehead pressed against hers, he says, "We match." His lips are no more than a breath away from hers. She could kiss him. He's going to kiss her. "You fit me," he adds.

She smiles.

(&)

They get high with Erik, watching the sunset. She sprawls out, her feet in her brother's lap, her head on Nate's thighs. He tangles his fingers in her hair and Erik tickles the soles of her feet; she laughs and squirms and tucks her fingers into the collar of Nate's polo shirt, pulls him downward until his mouth lands on hers, their first kiss since that night in his parents' bed.

He smiles at her when the kiss breaks, licks his lips. She can see the moon over his shoulder, a spot of transparent blue in the pink sky.

If everything ended right now, she would be okay with that.

(&)

Erik throws a raging party but Serena sneaks away, pulls Nate with her. They take (steal) her brother's red convertible and she lets him drive, leans over and kisses him at each and every stop sign.

They end up at an orchard in the middle of the afternoon. They pay the fee for apple-picking and run through the trees – Nate catches her in this arms and picks her up, making her squeal and beg for a truce. When he sets her down he tumbles into the grass with her, and they kiss for a long time under branches and blue sky, his hands roaming greedily over all the skin laid bare by her cut-off shorts and slipping underneath her cotton shirt, his thumb tracing over her ribs.

She laughs into his mouth, arching her back a bit. "We gotta pick apples."

He laughs, too, flips them over in one smooth motion so that she's lying on top of him, her bare knees on either side of his thighs. He cups her face in his hands, gives her the most perfect kiss as he murmurs, "Pick _you_."

They are a mess when they finally get to their feet, clothes stained green. Serena lost her flip-flops somewhere along the way and Nate bends a little so that she can piggy-back and reach the best apples, the ones high up in the tree.

She tucks pink blossoms into her hair and covers his eyes as he runs with her still on his back, presses a kiss to her neck as he warns her, laughter in his voice: "If I fall you fall!"

A week is not long enough for her to love him.

(&)

"I lost that ship," she tells him in bed, her nose bumping against his in the darkness. "The one you made me."

His hand traces the side of her body, lingers over the swell of her breast, the curve of her hip. He inches even closer. A promise, he says, "I'll make you another one."

(&)

They go to a polo match once, the kind of event that requires nice clothes, and he pulls her to him the moment he sees her in the foyer, eyes taking in the look of her appreciatively.

"You're so pretty."

"You're not half-bad yourself," she says, stepping on his toes.

Nate grins at her, almost bashfully. "Dance with me."

"Don't be such a goof." She takes a step back.

He reaches for her hand, lifts it so that she can twirl beneath his arm. His grin widens. "You're so…"

She spins into him, her back pressed against his chest, and nuzzles her nose into his neck. "You're a dork, Nathaniel Archibald."

With a single finger, he tilts her chin up and then presses a kiss to her mouth. She closes her eyes, opens her mouth against his.

"I love you," Nate murmurs. "A lot."

His hand drifts downward, fingers diving daringly to trace the online of the deep v-neck of her pale blue dress. She's sure he can feel the runaway beat of her heart.

She turns in his arms, presses her chest to his and looks into his eyes.

_Never stop_, she thinks.

(&)

"One day," he tells her, as they lean on the fence and watch the players on their horses, "I'm gonna take you sailing. I'll have my own boat and I'll name it after you."

"You will not," she giggles.

Nate looks aghast. He pulls her floppy hat off her head and holds it in front of their faces, hiding them away from the world. "Will too," he says, as if everything is that simple.

(&)

It rains. She steals his clothes and they watch _Gone With the Wind_ and they order two large pizzas because Nate is convinced he can eat that much (he can't, but they have ice cream afterward anyway).

Erik rolls his eyes from where he's sitting on the floor. "Fuck, just pick out wedding china and get it over with."

"Er-_ik_," Serena pouts, opening her mouth so that Nate can slip his spoon into it.

Her brother grimaces playfully at the sight of them feeding each other. "I'm just saying, Serena, if he breaks your heart – "

"I'm right _here_," Nate protests with a lazy grin, cuddling Serena closer to her side. "No heartbreak happening."

She giggles and licks chocolate off his lips and does not think about the end of summer.

(&)

Serena can't stop laughing as the hammock sways; she clings the side of it with one hand and to Nate with the other. "Don't tip us!"

"Don't _move_ so much!"

She laughs again, tickles his ribs with a playful grin.

"Gonna fall…" Nate warns halfheartedly. He tucks her hair out of her face, tugs her closer for a lingering kiss.

"Mm," she sighs contentedly. She presses her palm to his chest. "God, Natie, I could just kiss you forever."

He wraps her up in his arms, trails kisses lightly down her neck. "I want you forever," he mutters, voice low and heavy with meaning. "So don't go away."

(&)

They walk slowly on the beach at nightfall, their hands clasped and their steps slow, leaving a trail of footprints in the sand.

"Let's sit," she whispers. The stars are sparkling in the sky and the air is light and she feels so much for him, right here and right now, that she's not sure the world can contain it.

They do, and Nate slings an arm around her shoulders, presses a kiss into her hair. "What are you thinking about?"

She smiles, turns her face toward his; their noses bump. "You. I love you."

He smiles back at her, leans in and kisses her slowly, languidly, wonderfully. She scrambles even closer to him, lets him lean her back onto the sand, tugs at the drawstring on his surf-shorts. He groans against her mouth, pulls at the knot at the back of her neck, the one holding her halter-style dress up.

"Nate," she whispers, delves her tongue into his mouth.

He breathes her in; she can feel him hard and hot against her. Whispering back, he says, "I want to be inside you, S."

She shivers despite how warm she is, eyelashes fluttering as he pushes the skirt of her dress upward. They haven't gone past making out since he got here, not since that night, but it is the same as it's always been – he's Nate, her Natie, and she loves him and she wants him and that is _it_, all there is, the end of the story. She sighs into their kiss and it is _exactly_ the same; he fits her like he was made for her and she whimpers a little against his shoulder as he buries his face in her neck and _yes, oh – yes_.

(&)

She traces her fingers over the lines of his face in the pale, early-morning light, curls herself even closer to him, moulds every single inch of her body against his and _still_, it doesn't seem close enough.

Thoughts of tomorrow, in this moment, do not seem quite as frightening.

(&)

Lying in the grass, their eyes on the clouds, they listen to the music from the radio of Eric's Jeep.

"Song reminds me of you," Nate says, his whole side pressed up against hers.

She giggles and listens to the lyrics; it's the Rolling Stones.

_she comes in colours ev'rywhere, _

_she combs her hair_

_she's like a rainbow_

_coming, colours in the air _

"I remind you a rainbow?" She pretends to preen, kicks her feet up into the air, toward the clouds.

He nods solemnly. "You have all the colours. You're not missing anything."

And her feet drop back to the ground as she thinks, _a lot of the time I'm missing you_.

(&)

Nate lies her down on her bed and she sinks into white sheets; he kisses her, toes ankles calves thighs stomach breasts shoulders neck cheeks lips…

"I love you," she gasps, "_Love _you. Nate, oh…"

"Shh," he murmurs soothingly, kissing her lips very lightly. He tastes like marijuana and strawberries and every piece of her childhood.

"Let _me_ love _you_," he says, like all she's ever wanted.

(&)

Nate is going back to the city tomorrow. The day after, she's supposed to go to Hanover.

Her toenails are still painted like a rainbow. Her heart is still his to take.

They're sitting by the pool, their feet dipped in. She's in her cut-offs again, and one of his t-shirts; he's wearing swim drunks. The air is hot and heavy with humidity; it holds the moment still and she wants it to stay that way always.

"What're you gonna do?"

She shakes her head a little. _Don't ask me that._

He kicks his feet in the water. "You can't go."

Serena bites her lip. "B's gonna hate me," she says, her eyes on the water.

Nate sort of shrugs. "I love you."

Her smile is unstoppable. "_Natie._"

He slips into the pool, barely creating waves, and reaches up for her hands. "In," he demands.

"It's gonna be cold," she protests, biting the corner of her lip.

"In," Nate repeats, and he yanks her hands lightly, pulls her into the water with a splash.

She splutters to the surface, laughing and splashing water at him.

"I LOVE YOU!" Nate yells, loud enough for the neighbours to hear, loud enough for the world to hear, loud enough to reach the stars.

She giggles and he snakes an arm around her waist and kisses her hard on the mouth; he loves her and it fills up her heart so much and in that moment,

it's enough to last forever.

(&)

...


End file.
